Not as it semeed

Nostalgia

My flight will depart at 11 AM so I'm supposed to be at the airport by 10 AM. Mike had paid for acab from umoja estate to Wilson Airport . By 8 AM I was in the airport waiting for 11 AM so that I catch my flight to Kisumu. When I reach at the airport , am are confused. I look like a man traveling on a train in an anonymous county with anonymous people speaking anonymous language. Confusion. Anxiety. All at the same time. Confused because I don't know where to go and anxious because now I can see the jumbo jets and yet I'm about to fly for the first time. I see someone passing around and I rush to ask them 'hi, excuse me, am kind of confused, am new here...I have a flight to Kisumu at 11, where should I go next kindly?'. The man advices me to go to a nearby restaurant catch up as I wait for check in. He advices me that check in time is 90 minutes before the departure time because counters close 30 minutes before the departure. So I decided to kill time by going to a nearby restaurant, set up an alarm so that by 9:30 you head back to check in.

At the restaurant, I see people seated in crowds, seems like they are discussing something, a thing that seems to be disgusting them all. 'Is it politics?' I curiously ask yourself. 'Or are they talking about the number of Corona cases rising sharply and the curve is not flattening?' 'wait, could it be the champions league quarter final between Manchester city and Real Madrid, I heard my neighbours discussing yesterday?' Ieagerly want to know what is going on.

After stealing a glance at the menu, I see the waitress pekabooing at me . She then walks calmly to get my order. "Hi, looks like I have settled for coffee," I say while smiling. The order is served, but before the serving is done I ask the waitress, 'excuse me, I am seeing people in groups, what are they discussing,?' I ask curiously amid the unusual trickle of chitchat around.

'I think it's the story of Mike Oliver, it features a not-quite love triangle, and a litany of acts of the deepest turpitude, deceit in the name of love,' the waitress says ironically, in low tone. 'Who is Mike Oliver,?' you monologue. I then go to Google to find out who this person is, I also go to f*******:, and Tweeter to see who is trending. I don't even manage to take a sip at my cup of coffee. I spend all my time checking this pandemic called Mike Oliver. 'But this is Mike Oliver, I am going to meet Mike,' I orate to myself. 'this is a white guy, I am going to meet a dark berry from Kisumu,' I try to collect yourself.

I start thinking about the song of Celine Dion I used to listen in the 90's 'the power of love', I even start remembering the sweet congolese lyrical lines of Franco Luambo Luanzo Lokanga Makiade and TPOK in the song 'Mario' in the mid 80's when my dad was a magnificent rhumba fan.

'This is the work of the devil and witches back at home, God has given me Mike, I must fly to Kisumu, no weapon formed against me shall prosper. No way, shape or form I will stop this. My Mike is good,' I say to yourself as the alarm goes off. I then rush to check in and it's time for departure.

I read a manual about flight operations, why it is important to fasten your seatbelt before take off as turbulences might be experienced. 'is the sky clear or I might experience turbulences ahead,'? I question myself.

I'm still nervous but am pretending to be a person who is not flying for the first time. I seat between two gentlemen who are dressed like life insurance agents with fresh hair cuts, suits with tie and reading a book by Steve Harvey 'act like a lady, think like a man.' I don't care about the book, I have a third world war going on in your mind. The only things missing are the tanks and AK-47s.

I then start having nostalgic moods about the high school sweethearts I had, the number of bedsitters I've visited yet here am visiting a man in a mansion, I try to forget about the number of single rooms where I have spent a night but my vanity and nostalgia lead me to an embarrassing disavowal of my bad omen, I think about the number of phone numbers I deleted even before I left the wooden apartments, the number of unsuccessful blind dates I've done in Nairobi, the number of pregnancy tests. I even start thinking about my daughter whom I left back in your rural area with my mom, so as to come and make both ends meet in Nairobi. 'My Mike is not an opportunist, he's not a bad person, this is table turning moment,' you tell yourself. "My daughter is finally getting a father".

'Together with Mike I will overcome the daily incomprehension, instantaneous hatred, reciprocal nastiness, and the conjugal conspiracy I have had in the past, I will be the Juliet of Mike, he will be my Romeo,' you say.

I put on my pink earphones and start listening to 'All of me' by John Legend, with the highest volume. my head is under water, but am are breathing just fine. am are on a magical mystery ride, so dizzy and no kidding.

45 minutes later, am in Kisumu International Airport.